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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780552">Eventually, Egregiously Evicted: SoC 2</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallusadin/pseuds/Gallusadin'>Gallusadin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:06:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,051</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallusadin/pseuds/Gallusadin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stream of consciousness writing as an experiment, unfinished, unedited. A sales consultant comes face to face with the consequences of his actions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Eventually, Egregiously Evicted: SoC 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dog heard him coming before I did. She woke out of a deep sleep on the rug, and was whining at the door. I knew this day was coming, but I hoped I would have had a few more days, or at least hours to formulate my case. I flipped off my television and met the reflection in the now black screen. “Or at least to have shaved” I thought aloud.</p><p>Scurrying about the inside of my flat, quickly tending to small insufficiencies of presentation; a sigh which, combined with the steady knocking on the front door, drove my already excitable pug into an absolute frenzy.Barking as if to heaven and following me in my mad dash about the house; climbing the couch and leaping from the top like a suicidal man caught in a perpetual loop.</p><p>“Mr Edgar '' came a nasally, but firm and malicious voice from behind the door. I stopped in my tracks, the dogs' perpetual death came to a halt.  </p><p>“I can tell from the ruckus within that you are home” he declared, a steady, slow rapping coming from the door. “Unsurprising, considering the current state of your affairs, of course” he continued, dragging out each syllable, taking clear enjoyment in the denunciation. “And yet, what must be done, must be done. Come now and open the door”.</p><p>I felt in that moment as the men who, on their knees before a crowd, heads secured in the guillotine, must have. Predestined to an inevitable, fatal end. Choosing in that moment to no longer simply allow things to happen to me; a decision which no doubt simultaneously came far too late, and itself was forced upon me by the world; I elected to approach the door. Navigating through the kitchen, across the living room, down the hallways was an endeavor that, in my eyes, was more difficult and fraught with danger than any of Louis and Clark's. For their adventures held the potential for new discovery, and mine, only death.</p><p>Tentatively grasping the door handle, I turned my eyes back to seek comfort, or support, from the dog; but found none. Her sad eyes no longer beamed, but appeared sunken into their sockets, and despondency laid over her face. She turned away.</p><p>With the same, sudden, courageous impulse men who lay their fingers on triggers often find, I swung the door open wide, inviting the chaos on the other side to consume me. </p><p>“Mr Edgar” regarded the man once again in his standard distant, nasal monotone. “Good morning” he continued with a self-satisfied grin. This man, if by any common mode of description he could be called one, was Salem Klein. A sharply dressed, sharp tongued, and staggeringly dull man of advancing age. Standing just over five feet tall, but with a purposeful posture that defied his height. His balding black hair capped with a jet black yamaka, and eyes that burned with judgmental contempt. </p><p>“Good morning indeed” I replied, though not really wanting to dignify his superfluous pleasantries. “What brings you by?” I asked, similarly superfluously.</p><p>Motioning casually to the fine black car outside, Klein simply walked past me and into my living room! “What audacity!” I raged internally, though I managed to keep my outside demeanor calm and in control. This was still my house, at least for now anyway.</p><p>“Four months past due” he spoke slowly, as if into the space itself, before turning sharply to me; locking my gaze into his. “You are no doubt aware that you are presently four months past due on your agreed rent, in addition to an utter failure to pay the fees for such lateness?” The question came as a disinterested condemnation.  Of course I was aware I hadn’t been able to pay rent, what unnecessary and vindictive taunting. </p><p>Five months ago how different things had been. While presently an unemployed, and soon to be evicted, disgrace; it had not been so long since the road before me laid itself out with rich promise. I had worked as a consultant with a law firm in this, my beloved home town of Bremen. It is with no small degree of modesty that I must confess, even now, that I was a rising star in the field, and in this company specifically. </p><p>Rising star to shooting star. How fast life changes.</p><p>Though I suppose things hadn’t changed as fast as they now seemed. When you live each day in expectation of new and appropriate opportunity laying itself at your doorstep; when your delay the, what now seems as inevitable, consequences of failing to attend to your duties, the outcome of such prolonged punishment; now made manifest by an angry jew in my living room, seemed obvious.</p><p>That being said, I refuse to shoulder the entirety of the burden for this current circumstance. Fate turned its back on me when the folks at the top of the firm I consulted for elected to relocate to southern Dortmund following a bevy of legislation passed that aimed at increasing legal culpability for law firms pursuing frivolous lawsuits, and a corporate tax increase levied to redesign the streets to a more classical style.</p><p>I, of course, being a moral and upstanding citizen (and I say this not in jest) elected to vote to enact both of the pieces of legislation. When the contemptible leeches at the top then elected to relocate, and ordered my relocation as a precursor to maintained employment, I naturally told them to stuff it.</p><p>I didn’t need them, I thought. I had been blazing a superstar track of negotiations for nearly a year at that point. I owed this company little more than a proper notice of resignation, and to close the door behind me on the way out. My talent was unquestioned, and I was positive my reputation would proceed me in future job opportunities. </p><p>Unfortunately, as it happened to be, it did. Turns out news travels fast, bragging about voting against company interests is a fools errand, and the black list is a very, very real thing.</p><p>And so it comes to today. Dwindling savings, neglected bills, and a malicious, rent seeking jew in my living room. If ever had anyone experienced the hero's journey, they would have to consult with me to ensure its validity.</p>
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